mud。 A travel…stained cloak of heavy dark…green cloth was drawnclose about him； and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood thatovershadowed his face； but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watchedthe hobbits。
'Who is that？' Frodo asked； when he got a chance to whisper to Mr。
Butterbur。 'I don't think you introduced him？'
'Him？' said the landlord in an answering whisper； cocking an eye withoutturning his head。 'I don't rightly know。 He is one of the wandering folk Rangers
we call them。 He seldom talks： not but what he can tell a rare talewhen he has the mind。 He disappears for a month； or a year； and then he popsup again。 He was in and out pretty often last spring； but I haven't seen himabout lately。 What his right name is I've never heard： but he's known roundhere as Strider。 Goes about at a great pace on his long shanks； though hedon't tell nobody what cause he has to hurry。 But there's no accounting forEast and West； as we say in Bree； meaning the Rangers and the Shire…folk；
begging your pardon。 Funny you should ask about him。' But at that moment Mr。
Butterbur was called away by a demand for more ale and his last remarkremained unexplained。
Frodo found that Strider was now looking at him； as if he had heard orguessed all that had been said。 Presently； with a wave of his hand and a nod；
he invited Frodo to e over and sit by him。 As Frodo drew near be threw backhis hood； showing a shaggy head of dark hair necked with grey； and in a palestem face a pair of keen grey eyes。
'I am called Strider；' he said in a low voice。 'I am very pleased to meetyou。 Master – Underhill； if old Butterbur got your name right。'
'He did；' said Frodo stiffly。 He felt far from fortable under thestare of those keen eyes。
'Well； Master Underhill；' said Strider； 'if I were you； I should stopyour young friends from talking too much。 Drink_；_ fire； and chance…meetingare pleasant enough； but； well – this isn't the Shire。 There are queer folkabout。 Though I say it as shouldn't； you may think；' he added with a wrysmile； seeing Frodo's glance。 'And there have been even stranger travellersthrough Bree lately；' he went on； watching Frodo's face。
Frodo returned his gaze but said nothing； and Strider made no furthersign。 His attention seemed suddenly to be fixed on Pippin。 To his alarm Frodobecame aware that the ridiculous young Took； encouraged by his success withthe fat Mayor of Michel Delving； was now actually giving a ic account ofBilbo's farewell party。 He was already giving an imitation of the Speech； andwas drawing near to the astonishing Disappearance。
Frodo was annoyed。 It was a harmless enough tale for most of the localhobbits； no doubt： just a funny story about those funny people away beyond theRiver； but some （old Butterbur； for instance） knew a thing or two； and had
probably heard rumours long ago about Bilbo's vanishing。 It would bring thename of Baggins to their minds； especially if there had been inquiries in Breeafter that name。
Frodo fidgeted； wondering what to do。 Pippin was evidently much enjoyingthe attention he was getting； and had bee quite forgetful of their danger。
Frodo had a sudden fear that in his present mood he might even mention theRing； and that might well be disastrous。
'You had better do something quick！' whispered Strider in his ear。
Frodo jumped up and stood on a table； and began to talk。 The attention ofPippin's audience was disturbed。 Some of the hobbits looked at Frodo andlaughed and clapped； thinking that Mr。 Underhill had taken as much ale as wasgood for him。
Frodo suddenly felt very foolish； and found himself （as was his habitwhen making a speech） fingering the things in his pocket。 He felt the Ring onits chain； and quite unaccountably the desire came over him to slip it on andvanish out of the silly situation。 It seemed to him； somehow； as if mesuggestion came to him from outside； from someone or something a the room。 Heresisted the temptation firmly； and clasped the Ring in his hand； as if tokeep a hold on it and prevent it from escaping or doing _any_ mischief。 At anyrate it gave him no inspiration。 He spoke 'a few suitable words'； as theywould have said in the Shire： _We are all very much gratified by the kindnessof your reception； and I venture to hope that my brief visit will help torenew the old ties of friendship between the Shire and Bree；_and then hehesitated and coughed。
Everyone in the room was now looking at him。 'A song！' shouted one of thehobbits。 'A song！ A song！' shouted all the others。 'e on now； master； singus something that we haven't heard before！'
For a moment Frodo stood gaping。 Then in desperation he began aridiculous song that Bilbo had been rather fond of （and indeed rather proudof； for he had made up the words himself）。 It was about an inn； and that isprobably why it came into Frodo's mind just then。 Here it is in full。 Only afew words of it are now； as a rule； remembered。
There is an inn； a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill；
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill。
The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five…stringed fiddle；
And up and down he runs his bow；
Now squeaking high； now purring low；
now sawing in the middle。
The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes；
When there's good cheer among the guests；
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes。
They also keep a horned cow
as proud as any queen；
But music turns her head like ale；
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green。
And O！ the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons！
For Sunday there's a special pair；
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons。
The Man in the Moon was drinking deep；
and the cat began to wail；
A dish and a spoon on the table danced；
The cow in the garden madly pranced；
and the little dog chased his tail。
The Man in the Moon took another mug；
and then rolled beneath his chair；
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale；
Till in the sky the stars were pale；
and dawn was in the air。
Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat：
'The white horses of the Moon；
They neigh and champ their silver bits；
But their master's been and drowned his wits；
and the Sun'll be rising soon！'
So the cat on his fiddle played hey…diddle…diddle；
a jig that would wake the dead：
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune；
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon：
'It's after three！' he said。
They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon；
While his horses galloped up in rear；
And the cow came capering like a deer；
and a dish ran up with the spoon。
Now quicker the fiddle went deedle…dum…diddle；
the dog began to roar；
The cow and the horses stood on their heads；
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor。
With a ping and a pong the fiddle…strings broke！
the cow jumped over the Moon；
And the little dog laughed to see such fun；
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon。
The round Moon rolled behind the hill
as the Sun raised up her hea